


2084

by Stereksale7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drama, Dystopian type of world, Evil bad government, M/M, Rating is definitely going to change later on, Stiles just wants to do his thangg, more tags to come, these tags are ridiculous, wink wink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stereksale7/pseuds/Stereksale7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is just a normal, every day, Party member...except he isn't. He hates Big Brother and The Party, and wishes he could take them all down without being punished for Thoughtcrime. Will his opportunity to do so finally come to him in the form of a close friend? And who is the man with beautiful piercing eyes, dark hair, and even darker stubble he keeps seeing everywhere?</p><p>***Based off of the book "1984" by George Orwell.***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we have it aha. This story is going to be based off the book "1984" by George Orwell. Basically I had to read the book for my English class and couldn't help thinking how it would make a pretty cool Sterek fic. The story will probably have a really similar plotline to the book, while omitting certain aspects and minor details, and adding things in, i.e. possible smut, winkwink. I obviously changed the characters names and such to fit the whole Teen Wolf AU thing aha. If you have any questions, or would like to possibly be my beta, you can leave anything in the comments, or contact me on my twitter at @obroseyposeys. Due to school and such, the posting times for this may be sporadic, although I will try and keep some semblance of a schedule. The goal is to post daily, or at least every couple of days. Hope you like this, because I'm having fun writing it aha. Any mistakes are my own, and if you catch and wild "Winston"s in here, tell me, because I caught myself doing so when I wrote, because that's the real book's main character, and blah blah blah I'm rambling aha.   
> Twitter: @obroseyposeys

It was a sunny, frigid day in April, and the clock just struck 1 pm. A young man, somewhere in his 20s, walked briskly down the sidewalk, his head tucked towards his chest in an attempt to thwart the attacks of the wind.

Stiles hurried into Victory Lofts, past a series of large posters hung up on the wall, all featuring the same image: an old, stern looking man, with white hair and piercing eyes, decked out in military attire, with the caption " **Big Brother is Watching You** " printed in large lettering underneath it. 

Heading towards his door, Stiles tried to ignore the acrid cabbage stench that was suffocating him, trying as quickly as he could to get his key into his lock. Finally succeeding, he entered and closed the door, squeaky on its old hinges, behind him. He walked briskly past the telescreens, which at the moment were broadcasting some type of advertisement for iron. Oh how he hated the ghastly things, no matter where you went, you were constantly surrounded, under surveillance and government watch, all at the hands of these large, rather comely objects.  Except, Stiles had a secret, in one corner of his apartment, over by the window, there was a small area that couldn't be seen by the telescreen, only heard. It was rather rare to find such an area, and he couldn't believe his luck when he stumbled upon it years ago. 

The area was his safe haven, a rare escape in the life of constantly being watched. It was the area where he sat every day, at the tiny desk, and pondered whether he should start his journal or not. Today was no different. 

Taking the leather-bound book out of the locked desk drawer, Stiles sat looking at it. It was such a rarity to own one, an illegal item even. If the Thoughtpolice ever found out about him even so much as owning one, they for certain would take him into the Ministry of Love, and torture him. Maybe even vaporize him.

Yes, because a Thoughtcrime was the worst crime of all. It was also the most deadly, because, who in reality could control their thoughts? The Party supposedly. There were rumors about what would happen upon arrest: taken to the Ministry of Love, starved, beaten and tortured, and then eventually vaporized, so there would be no record of you ever even existing. Because, "who controls the past controls the present", and the Party and Big Brother's main objective was controlling the past. 

Stiles took out the small container of ink and the quill pen, both procured illegally years ago, and opened the journal. He dated it "April 6th, 2084", and then sat back. Should he date it with the correct date, April 6th 2032, or should he write it to the future, to maybe try and make an impact, show them what current society is like, in the hopes that the future society is nothing like how today is? Stiles decided to keep it, and then, started to write. He wrote and wrote about how he went to the theater last night, and saw war films, gory graphic things. One in particular, he wrote, was a rather gory thing, where a child was blown up by a bomb. 

He stopped writing at a knock at the door. 'Oh no the ThoughtPolice have somehow found me out! I'm dead now, gone, vaporized, I should have never been so stupid!' Stiles thought to himself as he hastily put everything away in the locked drawer, while the knocks kept getting more incessant. 

"Coming!" Stiles shouted, heading towards the door and opening it to face his de-

"Oh hello, Lydia, what can I do for you?" Stiles asked

Lydia, Mrs. Whittemore, was the wife of one of his colleagues that worked with him at the Ministry of Truth, where they sat day by day changing records of the past to the Party's standards, because "who controls the past controls the present".

"Ah yes, hello comrade, sorry for the inconvenience, but my sink is acting up again, and Jackson is out at some work function. I was wondering if you could try and give me a hand and fix it?" 

Stiles noted the use of the term, comrade. It replaced the normal terms of friend, Mrs, Miss, Mr, husband, wife, and so on. Yet another doing of the Party, trying to create an even more militarian society by controlling friendly greetings. There were no friends in the Party. There were barely relationships, marriage was only seen as a way of producing or raising children to be good Party members, and fornication was punishable as a Thoughtcrime. 

"Of course I can, comrade" Stiles tried not to sneer the word.

Following Lydia across the hall to her apartment, he headed into the kitchen, and was instantly hit with the smell of filth.

Then, upon tinkering with the sink and fixing it, he heard yelling coming from one of the rooms. Then, he was bombarded by 3 children, all of an elementary school age, who were taunting him with "You're a traitor!" and "You're a thought-criminal!" Stiles instantly became alarmed, worried that these children had found him out and would become yet another set of child heroes, as the Party called them, to turn an adult into authorities. 

Stiles turned and glanced at Lydia, who looked almost as alarmed as him. 

"Aha, well yes, they are awfully rowdy today, they haven't been able to get outside much." She said uncomfortably.

"Children! To your room!" At their mother's harsh tone, and with one final toss of a whiffle ball at Stiles, they obeyed and went to their rooms.

Stiles headed towards the door.

"I apologize again comrade, but thank you for your help" Lydia said, smiling slightly.

"Its quite alright, Mrs-I mean comrade Lydia." Stiles stuttered, in fear of his slip up.

Looking uncomfortable, Lydia said a final "good-bye" and closed the door.

Stiles headed back to his apartment, and had a quick meal of the Party-issued ramen,

Not realizing how long he actually spent working at Lydia's, he decided to go to bed, to try and conserve as much energy as possible for when he went to work tomorrow.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a confusing dream...and has an unsettling encounter with a mysterious stranger
> 
> ***Update*** Oh boy guys I can't believe I messed up my own story aha. The character Lahey was actually supposed to be McCall, Lahey will come in a later chapter...I'm changing it, sorry for any confusion, but it'll eventually become clearer why it's so important for me to change it and not leave it.   
> ♥

Stiles was dreaming of his mother. It must have been years since he last saw her. He remembers the last time he saw her vividly. 

_He was 5 and his mother and bright and beautiful. She was standing in their kitchen, giggling at his baby sister, Julia. His mother looked up and smiled at him, and he smiled back, he loved his mother._

_He had no idea where his father was. One day he was there and the next day he wasn't. Whenever he asks his mother "Where's daddy?" She always answers the same way: "What daddy, sweetie? You never had one." It confuses him greatly, but he lets it go, because somehow, in his childish brain, he recognizes the look of sorrow on his mother's face, mixed with something akin to fear._

_Sometimes, at night, he hears his mother mumbling in her sleep. Sometimes she full on screams, and so he worries. He doesn't want his mommy to be hurting, and he doesn't want her to be taken away. He knows talking in your sleep in wrong, he knows because his friend Johnny told him how he heard his daddy saying awful things in his sleep, and then told the military guys and the next day his daddy was gone._

_Stiles needs his mommy, so when he starts hearing her say horrible things in her sleep, how the Party should be destroyed, and how it took the love of her life away, Stiles shakes her and wakes her up, and then lays next to her until she quietly cries herself to sleep._

_In his 5 year old mind, he thought that was enough but, it wasn't, because on the 50th night of it happening, he counted, he heard loud bangs, and then he was injected with something and fell asleep._

_The next day when he woke up he was in a orphanage with a group of other loud children, and his mommy was gone._

_He cried until the nurses in the scary white coats and big blue gloves injected him with something again, and he fell asleep._

Stiles woke from his dream sweaty, with a face covered in tear tracks. He hastily wiped them away, and fell back asleep.

This time he dreamt of his colleague, McCall.

_He was in a room somewhere, he couldn't tell where. He noticed McCall sitting in the corner._

_McCall  gestured for him to come closer, and he obeyed._

_"We will meet in a place where there is no darkness." McCall said to him_

_Stiles nodded, and then he heard a loud, shrieking sound, almost like an alarm._

Stiles woke up with a start, and the realization that the loud, shrieking sound in the dream was actually the wake-up alarm of the telescreen going off.

He got up from his bed, and listened to the drill-sergeant-like woman give him his daily exercise instructions.

Stiles obeyed every one, because if he didn't the woman on the screen would yell "NO SLACKING COMRADE!" in her loud, harsh voice.

"NO SLACKING COMRADE!" Like just now.

Finally, the routine ended, and after taking a short shower in an effort to soothe his aching joints, Stiles grabbed a miniature bagel from his kitchen, and headed to work.

 

Stiles groaned upon his arrival. The Ministry of Truth was no place of fun. Made up of tiny cubicles, whirring machines, harsh fluorescent lights, and eerie coworkers by the name of Daehler, Stiles dreaded every second spent.

The day passed by slowly. Stiles spent it revising various old newspaper articles, changing what they said.

Stiles's workday finally ended, and hastily headed to Victory Cafeteria, to grab some dinner, and hopefully miss Daehler trying to go with him.

But, apparently, luck wasn't on his side today.

"Hey comrade!" Daehler said, walking in stride with Stiles down the stairs.

"Hello" Stiles answered unenthusiastically, picking up his pace.

The pair finally made it to the cafeteria, and Stiles went in line to grab his food, while Daehler rambled incessantly about something or other.

Finding a table, Stiles sat down, and Daehler followed, much to his chagrin.

Ignoring Daehler even more, Stiles ate his food, until a flash of dark hair took rein of his vision.

Stiles turned his head, and was met with the face of a highly attractive man with light, piercing eyes, dark hair, and stubble. He seemed to be around Stiles age, maybe older, and was dressed smartly.

Stiles started to sweat, what if this man was a member of the ThoughtPolice? What if he can tell Stiles is against the party? 

The man kept his gaze for a few more moments, before looking away.

Stiles turned away also, and finally decided to respond to Daehler's conversation, if only to keep his mind off of the encounter that just took place.

The whole event left him feeling on edge for the rest of the day and well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh why is Stiles dreaming of Lahey? What does his message mean? Who is the mysterious attractive man? Keep checking in to find out! Remember, i'll try and post daily, but class takes a lot out of you man aha.  
> x♥x Kait


End file.
